THE PERUVIAN'S DIRGE OVER THE BODY OF HIS FATHER. 1. REST in peace, my Father, rest! I bless thee, O Wife of the Sun! Thy votary toiled in fear. Thou badest the clouds of night 2. Wretched, my Father, thy life! Wretched the life of the Slave! All day for another he toils; Overwearied at night he lies down, And dreams of the freedom that once he enjoyed. Thou wert blest in the days of thy youth, My Father! for then thou wert free. In the fields of the nation, thy hand And when, with the song and the dance, As all in the labor had shared, So justly they shared in the fruits. 3. Thou visible Lord of the Earth, Thou God of my Fathers, thou God of my heart, O Giver of light and of life! When the Strangers came to our shores, Thy thunders should then have been hurled, The Strangers mock at thy might; They force us to bow the knee; They plunge us in caverns and dens, 4. My Father, rest in peace! Rest with the dust of thy Sires! They bore thee to their burial-place, And over thy breathless frame Oh! could thy bones be at peace To lay me beside thee when I am released! That my Spirit may join thee there, EXETER, 1799. SONG OF THE ARAUCANS DURING A THE storm-cloud grows deeper above; Araucans! the tempest is ripe in the sky; Our forefathers come from the Islands of Bliss, They come to the war of the winds. The Souls of the Strangers are there, In their garments of darkness they ride through the heaven; Yon cloud that rolls luridly over the hill Is red with their weapons of fire. Hark! hark! in the howl of the wind The shout of the battle, the clang of their drums! The horsemen are met, and the shock of the fight Is the blast that disbranches the wood. Behold from the clouds of their power The lightning, the lightning is lanced at our sires, And the thunder that shakes the broad pavement of heaven, And the darkness that quenches the day! Ye Souls of our Fathers, be brave! Brave Spirits, ye tremble not now! We gaze on your warfare in hope, We send up our shouts to encourage your arms: Lift the lance of your vengeance, O Fathers! with force, For the wrongs of your country strike home! Remember the land was your own When the Sons of Destruction came over the seas; That the old fell asleep in the fulness of days, And their children wept over their graves ; Till the Strangers came into the land With tongues of deceit and with weapons of fire: Then the strength of the people in youth was cut off, And the father wept over his son. It thickens, the tumult of fight! Louder and louder the blast of the battle is heard! Remember the wrongs that your country endures! Remember the fields of your fame! Joy! joy for the Strangers recoil; They give way, they retreat, they are routed, they fly! Pursue them! pursue them! remember your wrongs! Let your lances be drunk with their wounds. The Souls of your wives shall rejoice As they welcome you back to your Islands of Bliss, And the breeze that refreshes the toil-throbbing brow Waft thither the song of your praise. WESTBURY, 1799. SONG OF THE CHIKKASAH WIDOW. 'TWAS the voice of my husband that came on the gale; His unappeased Spirit in anger complains: Rest, rest, Ollanahta, be still! The day of revenge is at hand. |